The English Rose
by BuriedinHonour
Summary: With the prison now secured can life regain its structure?


_**The English Rose**_

_**Chapter One**_

_**Most of our feelings…they are dead and they are gone**_

Daryl stared down at the woman lay at his feet; he digested her tattered auburn hair and noticed, beneath the dirt and the blood that marred her skin, that she was as pale as a ghost. His tortured breath began to slow and he knelt beside her, "hey." He commanded in his southern drawl and he shook her shoulder, suddenly flinching at a noise behind him – another walker. Daryl rose nimbly and fired off a final arrow, he smirked at his accuracy - it was getting better by the day. He lowered himself again, "wake up." He insisted gruffly and he shook her again, this time she stirred and he felt relief knowing she was waking up.  
He shuffled back a pace as she sat up and he studied her hard. "Do I know you?" He drummed his fingers on his knee, he never could keep still. Daryl watched as she recoiled slightly whilst she tried to absorb what had happened. "You were attacked, I fought them off." Daryl explained briefly before he stood, "you have somewhere to go?" He looked to the west at the sinking sun, "it'll be dark soon."

"Daryl Dixon."

Daryl turned and stared at the woman as she rose carefully to her feet – she was slim, slimmer than he remembered…_why do I remember you?_ He asked himself. He devoured her with his eyes; he took in all she was – her furrowed eyebrows that seemed to always be locked in a way that made her seem worried, her long flaming hair, and her pristine white skin…her British accent. Daryl was taken aback and he laughed shortly. "Rose?" He shook his head in disbelief, "I should've guessed."

Rose smiled wholly, "you seem to have a habit of showing up whenever I'm in bother."

"Don't say 'bother' – swear! You're so well spoken!" He mocked her prudency.

Rose shrugged and her rain coloured eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't ask you to stop being a _hick_ – being polite and courteous is who I am."

Daryl shook his head, "look around you, Rose, this is the end of the world! Rules don't apply anymore – and you? What are you doing out in open like this?"

Rose looked down at torn up hands and she sighed, all humour had left her. "I don't know."

Daryl sobered and his eyes softened. He stepped forward. "Are you alone?"

Rose inhaled sharply and nodded. "For a few months now." She tried to smile but it shuddered and quickly waned. "I thought maybe if I tried to stop -…" She cut herself off and stood straight, "thank you for helping – I better get back," she made to turn up her small arm was grasped.

"Stop what?" Daryl's tone was incredulous.

Rose lowered her dull grey eyes; she did not dare look at him. "Living."

Daryl pulled her along, "you're coming with me." He secured his crossbow over his shoulder and led the woman to his bike, "D'ya think I saved you from those men all of them years back for you to just throw in the towel?" He made her sit on the motorcycle and he glared at her, "I'm sick of people giving up."

"Dar-…" She was cut off by his aggressive finger pointing at her face, she felt a pang of fear in her stomach – he hadn't been so hard and cold when she left him behind. _The world has changed, Rose. _She clenched her jaw in an effort to stop herself from crying – she was unhappy. She swallowed the melancholy and did as she was told…he would take her somewhere safe. The machine rumbled to life between her legs – she had been watching the littered bodies with suspicion as Daryl plucked his arrows from their heads and even when he had left them and joined her she was still worried. Rose reached her arms around Daryl and tensed as the bike roared and rode off like a beast finally freed from its chains.  
The ride was long enough for her limbs to start to ache with the effort of holding on, but soon the dense wooded path had its curtains of leaves pulled back and before her grew a huge concrete complex. "A prison?" She asked.

"We've been here for a few days now." Daryl explained briefly. He slowed at the gate and opened it up himself – he was glad nobody was there waiting to help him. He veered to the left once he was back on the bike and drove a short distance before he shut off the engine – he turned and faced Rose. "Get up in that tower and wait." He told her sharply.

Rose frowned and let her eyes trail to the safer looking building, "but-…"

"Outsiders aren't welcome, you have to hide." He stood and pocketed his hands in his leather jacket, "go." He insisted and watched her climb from the bike and she left his sight. Once alone he sighed and looked up at the darkening sky, he had only gone out to scope the area and he had returned with a woman he was sure wouldn't have survived such a nightmare. He stole himself away from the resplendence of the descending sun and set off for the prison, he went inside, mumbled a brief greeting to Carol, nodded his head to Rick and offered to take watch. He wasn't asked any questions nor was he stopped – just as always he had been left to his own devices and he was glad for that small courtesy. He leafed through his pack and found a jacket; he draped it over his shoulder and left for the outdoors without any qualm. His walk to the tower was silent and even when he stepped into the high set room he was still bitterly quiet.  
"I brought you this." He broke the noiseless dark and held out the jacket, "you'll get cold otherwise."

Rose took the gesture and smiled with gratitude.

Daryl leant against the door after he shut it and he folded his arms across his chest. "What was that back there?"

Rose smiled meekly and hunched her shoulders, she was ashamed but part of her wished she hadn't been saved. "Poor judgement?" She tried to tease but Daryl's expression was ragged and hard. Rose lowered her head. "I didn't see an end coming quick enough so I sought one out." She looked down at the jacket in her hands, it was dusty with dirt and she could smell dried blood – but it was the cleanest thing she had touched in a long while. She stood suddenly and glowered at Daryl, "have you been with these people this whole time?"

"With Merle before I met the group in Atlanta." Daryl answered reluctantly – he already knew what she was about to tell him.

"So you haven't been alone for extended periods of time?" Rose had stepped closer to him, her rage was palpable.

Daryl shook his head.

Rose smiled with melancholy, "then I hope that you never are. But if you find yourself lost and hapless in a country that isn't even where you belong then I _pray_ you have the nobility to keep yourself alive." Her lip reared with ugly aggression and she tried to supress her laboured breaths but when she saw the growing sympathy in Daryl's eyes she covered her face and turned away from him.

Daryl sunk and sat with his back against the door and he tossed a crumpled packet from his pocket to Rose's feet. "My last two." He said when she looked at what had hit her.

Rose licked her lips and knelt, she took a wrinkled cigarette from the packet and tossed the remaining one back to Daryl, "I told you that I quit."

"We're in hell now," Daryl stuck the slim stick between his lips and lit it with the lighter he always had with him, he tossed it to Rose, "there are no rules."

Rose copied Daryl and with a pleasured inhale she finally felt a small measure of peace. She held the noxious smoke in her lungs for as long as she could and with strain she let her body exude the poison. For a long while they were quiet. "Chris wouldn't let me smoke – even when this torment came down on us."

Daryl's face grew sour, "he is no good for you." He flicked his fingers and watched as the little flecks of ash cascaded to the ground. "Where is he anyway?"

Rose lowered her chin onto her knee; it was propped up in front of her like a barrier. "He's at home."

"He left you to fend for yourself?" His accent became all too prominent in his anger. "What kind of a no good-…"

"I took him there myself when he passed away." Rose interjected. "I didn't want him to be left on the side of a road somewhere – I didn't have the strength to dig him a grave." She explained simply. "At that point I still wanted to fight, I wouldn't die digging a hole for a man I wasn't sure if I was committed to." She set her grey stare down at her slender finger; she still wore the ring he gave her.

Daryl almost missed the resentfulness in her voice, she hid it well – she always did. She was like a flower standing tall and pretty, untarnished by the relentless weather or careless creatures, such a woman would never be seen without composure or regiment. Though from the day he met her he believed she was so full of sorrow – that all she dreamt of was to be free. _You're free now;_ he thought…he did not dare say it out loud.


End file.
